Sunrise and Sunset
by kungfu.slippers
Summary: 1000 word flash story set immediately after the Fourth Great Ninja War. What could have happened between Naruto and Sakura? I paint their emotions, primarily through the eyes of Sakura.


disclaimer: I don't own the Naruto universe

A/N: This is my second ever piece of fan fiction, the first I have published. I am very happy to finally be writing again, after many years of silence. This piece is approximately 1000 words, and came to me as a couple of scenes while I was trying to take a nap. I had to write it down just to get it out of my head. I don't think it's really a story, and the structure definitely needs polishing. But, I like how it came out, and I hope you do too. I would love your ratings and reviews. Tell me what you think!

pairing: NarutoXSakrua

...

The sunrise of a new generation chased rolling black clouds over the far reaches of Fire Country. The last day and night of the Fourth Great Ninja War had come and gone. It left aching hearts and still bodies, but in its wake crept the raw victory of a new beginning; and a solidarity, shining in the eyes of all those who set about picking up the pieces of their shattered lives.

Konohagakure was cold and still. A little group stood at the entrance of the country's most renowned medical facility. The group was comprised of a few of the village's most elite ninja. The Fifth hokage stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at her pupil. Tsunade was insistent that Sakura have Naruto admitted to the intensive care unit. Sakura would not have it. She herself had dragged Naruto off the battlefield, staunched his bleeding arm, and thrown him over her shoulder. Pale and shaking, she faced Tsunade, eyes narrowed as she shifted Naruto's weight. The purple diamond on her forehead flashed dangerously. "Naruto is coming home with me, Tsunade sensei. I will take care of him."

Kakashi, leaning on the doorframe behind them with crossed arms, smiled to himself under his mask. Tsunade glared at Sakura a moment longer, to no effect. "Fine. I suppose you will take better care of him than any of the other medics, anyway." Sakura turned to go, but was once again stopped by Tsunade's voice. "I expect daily reports on his recovery. And Sakura, I have an idea about his arm…we will discuss it once he has healed, and the village is on its feet again." Sakura nodded, overcome with weariness and relief. "Thank you." She left. Tsunade watched them with tired eyes. Kakashi followed Sakura, silently and carefully, seeing without looking, hearing without listening, knowing without wondering. His place was with his team, as tattered as it was.

Not long before Sakura had turned up with Naruto on her back, Kakashi had handed Sasuke over to the Medics. He had been obliged to guard Sasuke, so he had tracked down several trusted ANBU to do the job in his stead. Following Sakura out of the medical compound, his thoughts turned inward. His past failures weighed upon him, but Naruto's love and Sakura's steadfast resolve gave him the will to go on. Naruto had done what he could not: he had brought back his wayward student, had mended their broken team, had stopped the oozing of their hearts. Despite the chaos the war had caused, and his students' entanglement in it, peace had taken up residence in his gut. It curled deep inside like a purring cat, warm and shy, but reassuring. He did not have to bear the consequences of his mistakes. For this, he was utterly grateful. It was time to begin their journey anew, and Kakashi would do so by helping Sakura as she tried to carry Naruto up her staircase.

…

Two days had passed, and Sakura stood in her kitchen, nursing a mug of tea. The warm gold of sunset filtered through the window behind her, glowing around her head and twinkling into her tea, casting murky shadows in all the little corners of the room. The stairs creaked, and after what felt like ages, a disheveled Naruto appeared. He had put his shirt on backwards, and the hair on the back of his head was matted comically. Sakura wanted to giggle, but then she noticed his empty shirt sleeve. The absence of his arm was like a third presence in the room, and the giggle died in her throat. He looked strangely off balance with only one arm, and she was not the only one who knew it.

Naruto leaned heavily against the table opposite her, and for a long while, he looked at her. She waited for him to speak, but he did not. He simply looked at her, and under swollen eyelids, his eyes where bright with something she had only seen once before. She had seen it when Gaara died. Naruto had almost lost it completely. He had shouted and cried, and she had finally felt the depth of his burden. His vulnerability made her soul simultaneously shudder and grow. Now, she saw it again, burning at her through his eyes and out of the empty space where his arm should have been.

She swallowed around a growing lump in her throat. This time, it was he who had died, and she had been the one to save him. She flexed her fingers involuntarily, reliving the slick warmth of his heart in her hand. When she touched it, she had almost vomited from revulsion and awe. There had been no time to think, and she stopped seeing anything but his face, still as death. She forgot that her hand should not be inside his body, she forgot everything except him. For hours, she had done nothing but pump his heart and cry, and demand that he live. Now, looking at him, remembering, with her tea and his missing arm between them, she realized she was a different person. She was different in the way that a person is different after having looked death in the face and come out the other side. She was different in the way that a person is different after giving every drop of being to a hopeless cause. She had found, in the end, when nothing was left, that every moment mattered.

Sakura looked at Naruto, and he looked back at her. Tears began to slide out of the corners of her eyes.

"Sakura," he said. She set the tea on the counter and went to him. She held his face in her hands and pressed their noses together. "I love you," she whispered, and kissed him. He tasted like sleep and medication and salt tears. His cheeks were wet under her palms. They kissed each other until the kitchen was dark, and he held her tightly with his only arm.


End file.
